(Fyne Witches, #3) The Star Witch by Linda Winstead Jones

Author:Linda Winstead Jones [Jones, Linda Winstead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

ISADORA FELL FOR a moment and then landed hard. The impact of her body against the hard ground stole her breath. Again the world swam, and this time it threatened to go dark. She fought her way back from unconsciousness, knowing that to succumb now would be bad. Very, very bad.

High above she saw the emperor’s apathetic face for a moment, and then the hatch closed and she was left in complete darkness.

Her heart pounded too fast, and she was confused. Her brain refused to be still, and her thoughts were erratic and rapidly shifting. The emperor had drugged her. How long before the effects of the drug wore off? How long would she have to lie here before her wits returned and she could figure out how to escape from this dark hole in the ground?

She closed her eyes, reaching for a calmness that would not come. Nothing made sense; nothing was as it should be. Where was Lucan? He would know what to do.

It was a long moment before Isadora realized that she was not alone. She heard the shuffling of movement in the dirt, she heard raspy breathing, and then she felt the tug of a hand against her skirt.

She screamed. She had never screamed in her life, not like this. The shriek of terror was ripped from her very soul. Her scream scared away some of whatever those things approaching might be, but not all of them were frightened. What felt very much like a hand made of leather found her cheek and caressed her clumsily.

“Soft,” a hoarse voice whispered near her ear.

Another hand grabbed her ankle and started dragging her away. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, which was total but for the hint of light that worked its way through the crack in the hatch above. It took her a moment to realize that the things surrounding her were not things at all, but men. Thin, wild-haired, desperate men.

If she could make her mind be still, she could send them away with a spell, but her mind would not be still. She fought against them physically, pushing and slapping, but since she was on her back and being pulled across the ground, it was difficult to fight with any strength.

A face swam above hers, malicious and thin and mostly hidden in a long, untended beard. She knew those eyes. She had seen them before. With a start, she realized who glared at her with such hate.

Father Nelyk was not dead.

“Do you have any food?” a hoarse voice rasped in her ear.

“Panwyr,” another voice added from the other side of her head. “We need more Panwyr.”

“I don’t have anything,” Isadora said. “Where’s Lucan?” She tried to push the men away, but there were too many of them, and their hands were everywhere, and the drug had addled her mind so that she could not think. She slapped at a hand that wandered near her breast. “He will come for me, and you will be sorry if you hurt me.

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